Rómeó és Júlia drabbles
by ArkadyRose
Summary: A series of drabbles/ficlets for "Rómeó és Júlia" in answer to prompts on Tumblr. Originally posted on Tumblr and AO3.
1. A Foolish Thing

Written for the prompt by janeayreofmanderley on Tumblr:  
"You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn't have to go to such extremes." Tybalt/Mercutio.

* * *

It was hot, even for Verona in summer. The streets were dusty, small dust devils stirred up here and there by small eddying breezes that somehow failed to bring relief to the inhabitants of the city as they went about their business in the sweltering heat. The sky was a fierce, intense, almost impossible azure blue without even the faintest wisp of cloud to mar its cerulean perfection or promise the slightest drop of rain.

It was too hot even for fighting. Oh, tempers were frayed enough, it is true; but the snarled insults between Capulets and Montagues lacked their usual fire, uttered through force of habit and lacking teeth without the threat of being backed up by actions; it was too hot for exertion, and they all knew it. To raise a fist in anger would have been to invite prostration from the heat soon after; and thus the youths of the two great Houses of Verona contented themselves with derisive name-calling and insults and no more.

Even the fire of Mercutio's wit seemed dulled by the heat of the midday sun. He wouldn't have been out at all, save that sheer boredom had driven him out onto the parched streets in search of companionship and amusement. It seemed that for once Romeo and Benvolio had exhibited intelligence beyond his own; at any rate, he found no sign of them in any of their usual haunts, and he wondered at his own foolishness in venturing abroad during the hottest part of the day.

Except it seemed he were not alone in his foolishness - wasn't that Tybalt, striding slowly down the road ahead of him? And the mad Capulet had not the wit to even leave off his coat for once! The heat must have baked off what wits the man yet possessed.

The weather may be too hot for fighting, but Mercutio were not above a little goading, and Tybalt could always be counted upon to rise to any insult offered. Mercutio grinned and moved up behind the other man.

He was just reaching out to tap Tybalt upon the shoulder when Tybalt's footsteps faltered, then halted; he stood for a moment, one hand pressed to his face as he swayed; and then suddenly he keeled over backwards as though poleaxed, his long limbs folding gracelessly beneath him as he collapsed. Mercutio had barely enough wit to catch him as he fell. He stared down into Tybalt's pale face and swore heartily. For all he was so lanky, the tall man was surprisingly heavy. He was in a dead faint, lips barely parted, dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

Mercutio glanced around, then dragged Tybalt over to the shade of a tree nearby. He laid the unconscious man down upon the dried yellow grass at the foot of the tree then set about removing Tybalt's coat. It wasn't easy; the Capulet youth's limbs were limp and unco-operative, but finally he managed to get his arms out of the heavy leather sleeves. He unbuttoned the top few buttons of the sweat-soaked shirt and tugged loose the thin silk scarf about Tybalt's throat, then glanced around, at a loss for what to do next.

There was a fountain in the centre of the square at the end of the road; with a brief glance down at the unconscious Tybalt, he pulled free the scarf then jumped up and ran to the fountain. He soaked the cloth in the cold water as he glanced around. He spied a chipped earthenware bowl lying beside a heap of rubble and refuse next to the steps of a house across the square; he ran over and snatched it up. It seemed clean enough; he returned to the fountain and washed it in the water, to be on the safe side, then filled it with cool, clear water before carefully carrying it and the sodden scarf back to where Tybalt still sprawled insensible beneath the tree.

As he carefully patted Tybalt's face with the wet cloth and poured a little water over the black hair, Tybalt's eyes flickered and he made a faint sound of complaint. Mercutio sighed with relief as the other man opened his eyes and stared about himself in confusion.

"Where - what...?" Tybalt murmured in bewilderment. Mercutio sat back on his heels and grinned.

"You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn't have to go to such extremes."

"I... fainted?" Tybalt frowned slightly as he pushed himself up onto one elbow. Mercutio proffered the bowl of water; Tybalt stared at it for a moment, then took it, sipping slowly at the water.

"Keeled right over. Not surprised, in this heat; whatever possessed you to go out in the hottest part of the day?"

"I could ask you the same thing," snorted Tybalt. He managed to sit up, and took another sip of water.

"At least I had the sense not to wear a leather coat on a day like this," shrugged Mercutio. "The heat must have addled what wit you possess."

"Shame it did not also dry up that tongue of yours," retorted Tybalt, though without his usual acidic sharpness. He sighed. "I have neither the energy nor the inclination to fight you today, Mercutio."

"For once, I agree; it's too hot for fighting," sighed Mercutio as he sat down next to Tybalt, who moved his long legs aside so that they might both share the shade of the tree.

They sat in companionable silence for some time. After a little while, Mercutio got up and went in search of a nearby tavern; he returned with a bottle of chilled white wine and a flagon of water. To his surprise, Tybalt was still waiting for him beneath the tree. Mercutio dropped back down to sit next to him, and passed him the bottle of wine.

They did not speak. They shared wine and water, and after a while Mercutio leaned against the trunk of the tree and nodded off.

Tybalt was gone when he awoke some time later. And perhaps, that was as it should be.


	2. Fool Me Once

Written in response to a prompt by sosearchingromeo on Tumblr:  
"I'm pregnant."

* * *

"You moronic, imbecilic, thrice-damned and-"

"I'm pregnant."

Of all the things Mercutio could have said, that was absolutely the last one Tybalt had expected, to judge from the completely dumbfounded expression upon the tall Capulet's face. Tybalt stared at Mercutio, his green eyes incredulously wide, his face otherwise blank with shock. His lips parted as though to speak, but nothing came out.

Finally Tybalt seemed to dredge his wits together and he blinked, shaking his head slowly.

"Whose?"

It was Mercutio's turn to be surprised. He'd expected Tybalt to react with denial, or at the very least to ask how such a thing was possible; he hadn't expected the pale-faced man to demand to know the parentage.

"Yours." It took everything Mercutio possessed not to grin as Tybalt actually physically staggered. His mirth turned to alarm as Tybalt put a hand to his head and then his eyes began to roll back.

"Fuck! ...fuck, fuck, no, don't pass out on me, come on Tybalt!" exclaimed Mercutio as he leapt to the other man's side and managed to catch him as Tybalt's long legs abruptly folded beneath him. "Come on, wake up, wake up!" he muttered as Tybalt's eyelids fluttered; after a heartstopping moment, the Capulet clutched at Mercutio's arm and opened his eyes again.

Tybalt glanced sidelong at Mercutio. "Worried for me, Escalus?" he murmured.

"You ass, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Mercutio allowed himself to exhale.

"Good. Serves you right. Pregnant indeed." Tybalt's elbow caught Mercutio square in the ribs, winding the prince's nephew as the tall dark-haired man whirled out of Mercutio's arms with a sudden grin.

"Try something more plausible next time!" called Tybalt with a laugh as he strode away, leaving Mercutio coughing on hands and knees in the dust.

"Bastard. I will!" swore Mercutio when he could finally speak.

Oh, it was _on_.


	3. Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Written for a prompt by Red_Mercutio:  
Platonic Mercutio and Valentine, "You need to wake up because I can't do this without you" and "I almost lost you".

* * *

His breath burned in his chest as his feet pounded against the hard pavement. He could hear the shouts behind him getting closer.

It wasn't him they were after - not really. He was incidental really; wrong place at the wrong time. That wouldn't change the outcome though; their blood was up, and he was guilty by association and by blood. And after all, that was what this was all about really, wasn't it? Blood for blood.

Damned their feud, and damn his brother for getting involved - and for getting him involved too.

He turned the corner, and all the breath went out of his body in a gasp of denial. It was a dead end.

He heard the footsteps slow then stop behind him. He drew a deep breath, then turned.

It hurt. Oh god, it hurt. He could barely think straight. He could feel the blood soaking through his shirt, spreading in a slick pool beneath him; welling up thick and hot between his fingers as they clenched at the gaping wound in his guts, trying desperately to hold himself together. Each breath was a sob. He tried to roll onto his side but the movement pulled terribly at the wound, weakness flooding over his body and turning his limbs to water as his vision whited out.

He didn't scream. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was proud of that.

He heard footsteps pounding towards him and he forced his eyes open.

"Oh god. _Val!_ "

"Mercutio…." Was that his voice? That thin, weak thing?

Mercutio was on his knees, reaching for him. "Val, oh my god - I'm here Val, I'm here now - oh sweet Jesus -"

Mercutio was trying to lift him, and Valentine bit back a scream. "Don't move me - oh Christ, Merc, it _hurts_ …."

"Oh god, Val, hang on. Just hang in there."

He must have blacked out for a moment; he was in Mercutio's arms, and his brother was hugging him, rocking him gently and sobbing, Valentine's blood soaking into his white shirt, dying it an alarming crimson as the blood soaked through the white cotton.

"Come on Val, wake up. You need to wake up because I can't do this without you," Mercutio begged, the words almost indistinct, his voice thick with tears. "I need you, Val. You've always been the clear-headed one. Come on, Val, don't do this to me!"

"Not going anywhere," Valentine managed to gasp as he opened his eyes.

"Oh god. Val. Val. I almost lost you."

"Not yet," Valentine managed to gasp. "Merc… they were looking for you. They thought I was you."

"Who?" asked Mercutio, startled.

"Capulets," Valentine murmured.

"Just hang on, Val. We're going to get you to a doctor. You're going to be OK, just hang in there, you hear me?"

He felt so very tired and cold. He closed his eyes.

"Val? _Val!_ "

Actions


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